Legion
by NancyBG-OldMaidWhovian
Summary: Donna's newlywed friends have purchased a haunted manor house, and Donna calls in the Doctor to help investigate the strange-and deadly, happenings.
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Who: Legion

Chapter 1

Donna was not thrilled. She looked out at the hills and trees flashing past the taxi's windows in what she saw as one monotonous blur. For what seemed like the fiftieth time she harangued the driver for his breakneck speed. To the cabbie, it seemed more like a hundred. She was on her way to visit an old friend who'd just married a wealthy investment broker.

They'd set up house in aVictorian era mansion. Her friend told her it was built on the site of an old priory, which had been taken over by a staunch supporter of the Round Heads. The old priory building burnt down sometime in the mid-nineteenth century, and a wealthy industrialist built the present home on the site. It was located a few miles from a small Welsh town, whose name Donna found quite unpronounceable.

The Doctor had promised to take her to Cinco De Mayo in Mexico. Only once again, the TARDIS had got things wrong, and they'd ended up somewhere outside of Reykjavik, Iceland. In January. The Doctor had made all of his usual excuses, plus a few she'd not heard before. Donna thought back on that day and gave a derisive snort.

"Erm-?" Was all the Doctor said at first, as he threw open the TARDIS door, and got a face full of windswept snow. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Donna? Maybe you'd better forget the shorts and bikini top. And the sandals. And the sun block. And the beach chair."

Donna was just emerging from the TARDIS wardrobe, kitted out for a fun beach holiday in warm, sunny Acapulco.

"Oooh, don't tell me it's raining? I had this friend once," Donna went on, "Violentia, and she'd saved the whole year for a two week holiday in Greece, and it not only rained every day, they had mudslides and an earthquake, as well. Not a pence in compensation, either. I'm telling you," Donna laughed, "She didn't half want to kill her travel agent."

"Well—no, it's not exactly raining Donna." The Doctor said. He sighed, having been patiently leaning against the open doorway, while his friend nattered on. He was watching the snow driving across the open moors. It was likewise swept across the black volcanic rocks on the nearby shore, which were in turn being repeatedly dashed with the white foam and emerald waves of the northern Atlantic. The Doctor found both majesty and serenity in the sight. He hoped Donna would feel that way. But, he wasn't going place any bets on it with Ladbrokes.

Looking down, the Doctor noted some snow gathering on the shoulder of his suit. Against the dark blue material, it made him look as if he had dandruff. Shrugging into his long brown coat, he waited for his friend to stop talking long enough for him to explain. Then again, the Doctor thought, looking out at the barren, virtually treeless landscape. Maybe he should ask Donna about this friend of hers. Then he wouldn't have to explain anything. For a while, anyway.

Unfortunately, just as the Doctor was about to ask her about Ala-whatever her friend was called, Donna's mental penny dropped. She put her head back and let out a long groan.

"Oh, you've so got to be kidding me!" She told him, stalking over to the door to look at what she guessed wasn't going to be golden sands, sunny skies and some really fit surfer blokes. "What is it this time?" She asked with a sniff and a sarcastic bobble of her head, "Hurricane season? The Isle of Wight? A sewage treatment planet?" She shook a finger at him, "All I can say is, it'd better not be snow—." Just then, a gust of wind through the open door, blew a flurry of snowflakes in her face.

"Erm—yeah. Sorry, Donna." The Doctor shrugged lamely.

Peering through the snow, Donna saw that the TARDIS had landed in the back of the car park of a petrol station. On the opposite side of the road, were an American truck stop and a popular American fried chicken takeaway. There was no other buildings or signs of life to be seen for miles in any direction. No vehicles were on the road or parked at the restaurants. At least, none that she could see. It seemed to be late dusk or early dawn, as there only was the barest hint of light in the sky.

"So, where are we then?" Donna asked skeptically.

"Iceland, somewhere between Kevlavik and Reykjavik. It's winter, in the middle of the afternoon, probably early twenty-first century. The volcano of 2009 hasn't erupted yet." The Doctor informed her, talking more like an eager tour guide than a hundreds of years old Time Lord.

"Ice-what?" Donna did a double take, and stared bleakly at the vacant landscape.

"Doesn't look like much hereabouts, but there's loads of fun to be had." The Doctor explained, ignoring the look on Donna's face. "We could take snowmobiles to the top of a glacier, or ride their wonderful gaited Viking horses to see some beautiful waterfalls. Or, we could skip all that, and hop over to Greenland to visit some Eskimos. I've never taken you to see Eskimos before, Donna! I met an Eskimo once, gave me a terrific recipe for barbecued whale blubber. How many people do you know who can say they've had barbecued whale blubber, Donna? Think of the terrific conversation starter that would be at a party! _Molto bene_!" he chortled virtually non-stop. Until Donna put the flat of her hand over his mouth.

It turned out that the accelerated magnatron processor had shorted out, which lead to a failure of the TARDIS' navigational positioning systems. The Doctor managed to jerry-rig a quick fix, which landed them in Cardiff, in September of 2008. Donna wasn't pleased by this location either, but, the TARDIS was grounded there, until the Doctor could fix the problem to his satisfaction. He said something about getting parts he needed from someone named Captain Jack. Personally, she thought he just wanted an excuse to nip out to the pub on his own for a bit.

But, the delay gave Donna a chance to catch up with an old school friend of hers, whose wedding she'd attended just before her own disastrous near-wedding with Lance. Unfortunately, that ceremony was permanently postponed when Lance was killed by a giant talking spider woman known as the Queen of the Racnoss. The Doctor had programmed a speed dial number into her mobile, so if Donna needed him for any reason, she would automatically be connected to the TARDIS. Provided the Doctor bothered to answer the phone, that is.

Donna was started out of her thoughts, when the taxi turned into a long, narrow drive. Going between two wrought-iron gates, the drive wound through a grove of trees. Some horse and sheep paddocks were passed, before the cab rounded a bend and the stately old red brick house hove into view.

As the cabbie was taking her bags out of the boot, Donna beamed a smile at her friend, Lucrece, as she came down the front stairs to meet her. However, Donna was startled to see her friend. Her face was white as a sheet, and she seemed quite unsettled as she took Donna by the hand and greeted her with

fleeting pecks on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, Donna." She smiled apologetically, "I know you came all this way, but it seems I'll have to cancel our little weekend get together. It's Michael, you see. He's come down with a stomach ailment, and I'm afraid it's not very pretty."

"Is everything alright?" Donna asked anxiously. "If you need any help, I could stay. I don't mind. Trust me, after some of the things I've seen lately, a little sick isn't going to put me off. Well," she rolled her eyes and smiled, "not enough to go home and spend the rest of the weekend with my mum."

Before her friend could send her away though, the matter was settled by the cab driver. Overhearing that he might have to drive the bossy woman all the way back to Cardiff, he quietly closed the boot, climbed back into his cab, and sped off. He didn't even bother to look at the two women in his rear view mirror, as he made his way back to the main road. It's not like the woman left him much of a tip, anyway. Pesos? Now he'd seen everything.

"Oi!" Donna shouted after him. "Next time I flag your cab down, it's going to be with just one finger, sunshine..."

"Oh no." Violentia said softly, "Please God, not again."

Donna spun around to see what was wrong with her friend. Violentia was staring, horror-stricken, at an upstairs window, on the right side of the house. In the window was a face, a terrible face. It was dark gray and skeletal. The head had short dark hair, and the mouth was wide open, as if in an agonizing scream. But there was no sound. Around it's neck was hanging a white stock, like some old clergyman's from two hundred years ago. Only, the ends of the stock were burgundy colour, and seemed to be dripping with blood. The blood ran out of the open window, dripping down the white sill on to the slate roof.

Donna stared at the head in the window for a long moment, before she realized that it wasn't actually attached to a body. She looked away for a second and asked her friend what was going on. Her friend only could shake her head, wordlessly. Donna looked back at the window. But, the headless clergyman was gone, and there was nothing to indicate he'd ever been there, not so much as a drop of blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"...So then the race horse says to the jockey, well, I'm so hungry I could eat a man!" The Doctor told the police horse. The flea-bitten gray raised its head, turned up it's upper lip, and let out a series of whinny-grunts, which sounded much like a human laugh; '_huh-huh-huh-huh_.' The Doctor was sitting on a park bench, to which a city policeman had left his horse tied.

The Doctor had easily fixed the problem with the TARDIS, had coffee and a friendly chat with Captain Jack, and was now taking some rare down time on his own. He was relaxing on the bench, watching passersby and sharing a cup of popcorn with the horse, whose name apparently, was Roger. The Doctor was about to tell his new-found equine mate another joke, when the mobile in his coat pocket rang. He'd slipped it in there just in case Donna needed him. The Doctor didn't think it would be quite this soon, though.

"Hang on a sec," the Doctor told the horse, "I've got to take this call." He pressed a button and spoke into the phone. "Missing me already, Donna? Lovely day, isn't it? I've just met the nicest horse. His name's Roger. Reminds me of another horse I once knew, named Arthur. Maybe they're related..."

"Oh shut up, will you? I need to tell you something. There's something really strange going on here, Doctor." Donna interrupted him, tersely.

"What is it, Donna? Is everything alright up there?" The Doctor said, suddenly straightening up, looking concerned. He hoped it really was important though, and that she wasn't ringing him up to tell him to check the TARDIS and see if she'd left her toothbrush in there. That would be very anti-climatic. Not to mention extremely annoying.

"It's this house, Doctor." Donna informed him breathlessly. "There's something in there. Some kind of poltergeist or ghosts or...I dunno' what it is. This probably sounds bonkers, but whatever this thing is, I think it's truly evil. It's already attacked Violentia and her husband several times. Just before I'd arrived, a mirror came off the wall as Michael was walking past it, gave him a nasty cut. Violentia had a knife come sailing at her from out of the kitchen sink yesterday, as well.."

"What about you? Are you OK Donna?" The Doctor asked anxiously.

"Doctor, whatever it is, it's coming after me, now. I nearly lost my head last night, as I was getting into bed. And I mean that literally. Swear to God Doctor, a bloody ax—and I mean bloody, as in actual blood dripping from it—simply materialized out of thin air! Launched itself through the room, and buried itself in the headboard of my bed. I called for help, but when Violentia opened my bedroom door, the ax disappeared, like it was never there. And I thought a giant wasp was weird!"

"I'm sorry Donna," the Doctor said apologetically, "but I have to ask this; are you sure you weren't just having a nightmare?"

"Maybe if it had just been the one time last night." She said, shaking her head even though she knew he couldn't see her. "This morning I was walking down the stairs to breakfast, and I'd swear somebody pushed me. I'm telling you, whatever is going on in this place, it's like that seventies film, _The Amityville Horror_. Only, this is real, Doctor."

"Are you hurt?" The Doctor asked, genuinely worried now. Roger sensed the Doctor's change of mood, and nuzzled his sleeve. The Doctor absently patted the horse's nose to reassure him, as Donna told him she was fine. "Maybe you all should get out of there for a bit. Go to a hotel or something." He suggested.

"We're trying to leave," she told him, "but the Range Rover is locked in the garage, and it's miles to town. Violentia can't get the garage door open. The strange thing is, she says that door has never been locked before now. Michael's gone to the stables to fetch out the pony trap."

Donna was about to say something more, when suddenly the Doctor heard the long, drawn out scream of of a terrified man over the phone. The scream was abruptly cut off. He heard Donna gasp, say, 'Oh my God!' and then she said nothing more.

"Donna? Donna! Donna can you hear me?" The Doctor shouted into the phone, but there was no answer. Taking the chance that she could still hear him, he added urgently, "Listen. I'm coming to get you. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just hang on, alright?" Not even bothering to say goodbye to the horse, he chucked his popcorn in a nearby bin. With his coat tails flying behind, the Doctor re-pocketed the phone, and bolted back to the TARDIS as fast as his burgundy trainers could take him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The red brick stables and cobblestone yard were abandoned and still. Nothing stirred, but a few bits of straw, blown about by the wind off the moors. All of the sudden, from behind the adjoining garage, came the raucous groaning of ancient alien engines. The noise startled a raven, which had chosen to rest upon the weather cockerel atop the stables roof. With throaty caws of protest, it unfolded it's ebony wings and flew over the TARDIS to find some other perch.

Coming from the rear of the garage, Doctor cautiously made his way to the stable yard. There was something about this place. He could feel it the moment he stepped out of the TARDIS doors. In the first few seconds, he'd tried to dismiss it, considering that his imagination was being influenced by Donna's phone call. After all, there was nothing there. What did he have to be afraid of?

But, the Doctor knew better. The feeling was with him, even now. A cold, creeping, icy finger, slowly walking up his spine to squeeze its way into his brain. It was fear. In its rawest, most primeval form. It felt oppressive, threatening, like the gathering green-black clouds, the electrically charged air, before the onslaught of a violent thunderstorm. It made him want to run away. So, the Doctor went forward, out into the open.

The first thing the Doctor noticed, was that internally, his body was over-reacting to some sort of invisible stimuli. For instance, his hearts were beating faster than normal. Putting on his eyeglasses, he whipped out the sonic screwdriver. After sonicking his own body up and down, the Doctor muttered to himself that his adrenaline levels seemed to be unusually elevated. The second thing the Doctor noticed, was a thin, dark rivulet of blood, running between the cracks in the cobblestones at his feet. That would be from the body then, he reckoned.

There, in front of one of the stall doors, was stood the body of a man. The corpse was standing upright, wedged flat against the dutch doors of a horse stall. What had killed the man was readily apparent. By all appearances, the top half of the heavy wooden door had been open, and the man had leaned against the bottom half of the door to look inside. Somehow, the upper door had swung shut on him, before he could move out of the way. It had almost completely severed the man's head, crushing his neck flat as Frisian pancake.

The Doctor could only guess at the strength which was needed to inflict such mortal injury. More powerful than the average human was capable of, quite probably. And then there was that feeling of fear, still hovering over him like a miasmal evil. Someone or something was trying to mess with his head. With concentrated effort, the Doctor was point-blank refusing to take the bait.

Opening the stall door, he let the body fall to the floor like a discarded doll, and sadly looked down, wondering if this was Michael, never liking to see anyone die before his or her time. And with a Time Lord's insight, the Doctor instinctively knew that it wasn't this man's time. He noticed a horse rug hanging on the stable wall, and draped it over the body. It's what Donna would have done. Straightening up, he stepped back, and looked around the place. Where was Donna?

Hiding the darkness of the cellar, Donna could hear nothing but her own breathing. Violentia had fainted at the sight of her husband, collapsing on the cobblestones. Trying not to look at Michael's body, Donna loosened her friend's clothing, and propped her head against the overnight bag she'd been carrying. She wished she'd been wearing something that she could tear up and use for a flannel, but all she had on was jeans and a short sleeved lavender jumper.

Donna noticed that Violentia had dropped her overnight bag. Rummaging around in it, she found a cotton scarf. Taking that, Donna went off to find the hose she'd seen earlier, over by the garage. Wetting the scarf with cold water from the hose, she wrung it out and glanced up to where her friend was lying prone on the cobbles. However, Donna gave a start when she realized that Violentia was gone. Calling out to her friend, she wondered if Violentia had come to, then wandered off in a state of shock.

She was about to go search the rest of the stables area for her friend, when Donna felt something brush up against the back of her neck. Something that gave a strangely familiar droning whine. Whirling around, Donna gaped at something she'd never thought she'd ever see again: a giant wasp. It hovered over her head, giving a slight menacing buzz.

"Oh no you don't!" Donna told it. "You're not real. You can't be real. I saw you die!"

However, she felt a shudder of horror, when the big wasp turned its rear end towards her, the venom dripping stinger pointing directly at her chest. Reacting quickly, Donna put her thumb over the nozzle of the still-running hose, and sent a fierce spray of cold water into the wasp's bottom.

Without waiting to see the result, she sprinted back towards the house. Slamming the door behind her, Donna leaned her back against the front door, trying to catch her breath. She'd only just barely made it. But, she wasn't out of the woods yet. For, as she locked the door behind her, there was a great crash of glass in the next room, and the walls of the empty old home echoed with the angry whine of the wasp.

Now, she was hiding in the cellars, because that was the only door which had dead bolt lock on the inside, and looked solid enough to hold back the flying menace. Donna was huddled behind bottle racks of expensive wine, and boxes packed with musty and forgotten mementos, the material commemoration of the passage one's life. She couldn't seem to shake the feeling of doom which had settled over here, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. She looked up, and saw a flitting shadow pass one of the cobweb covered windows.

"Donna, you idiot," she whispered to herself, rolling her eyes, "you would have to lock yourself in a cellar with windows. Duhh—!"

A few seconds later, one of the other windows rattled, as if someone—or something, was trying to get in. Donna frantically tore open the nearest box, hoping to find something she could use as a weapon. It occurred to her to grab one of the dusty, dark green bottles in the rack, but she discarded that idea. Her hands were shaking, and she didn't want to risk making noise if she should drop a bottle.. It would also be a waste of perfectly good wine.

She pulled out the contents of the box. A yellow rubber toy duck. Not going to distract the creature with that. The next item was a moth-eaten uniform jacket from WW I, followed by a tattered paperback copy of '_An Age of Kings_,' a handful of faded horse show ribbons, a wicker fishing creel, a transistor radio, a headless teddy bear, a Victrola record of '_Me and My Shadow_,' a water-stained print of a sea battle, a fake grass skirt with a coconut shell bra, a string-less ukulele, a dented toy steam shovel, and finally, at the bottom of the box, an old cricket bat. Donna eagerly picked it up with a big grin on her face.

"Right, matey." She muttered determinedly under her breath, grasping the cricket bat with both hands. Somehow the bat gave her enough reassurance to stop her hands from trembling. "Now we'll see who'll be chasing whom, won't we?"

She jumped when she heard the cellar's old metal coal chute rattle, immediately followed by a low thump. The few windows there were, were only small panes of glass set just above the stone foundation of the house. Their sole function was to let in light. They didn't open or shut like proper windows. Donna held her breath. There was no insect-like sound though. Maybe it couldn't fit. Just when she hoped that was the case, Donna heard soft footsteps coming towards her. So, not the wasp then, but a person. Violentia? No, she doubted her posh friend would come swanning into the cellar down the coal chute.

Unbidden into her head, came visions of an evil, ax-wielding spirit, as the footsteps slowly came closer, and closer. Donna hated herself for feeling the way she did. She was shaking again with fright, beginning to sweat, her breath coming in quiet gasps. Her steel grip on the cricket bat, was, for the moment, her only comfort.

Slowly she rose, keeping her back between the shoulder high wooden wine rack, and a thick wooden support beam. The outline of a shadow advanced gradually by degrees towards the wine rack. Donna raised the bat over her head, ready to deliver a defensive blow.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As the shadow inevitably drew closer to her, Donna was quite prepared to give whomever, or whatever it was, a serious headache. It had reached the other side of the support beam. She stood poised between it and the wine rack, trying her best to control her quaking knees.

Donna frowned. Why did she suddenly feel like a school girl who'd been dared into going inside a haunted house? That thought was interrupted when she clearly heard a single, cautious step. One more, and whoever belonged to that shadow would be right in front of her. Then it came, another step. Involuntarily closing her eyes, Donna swung the bat with all of her might.

"Whoa!" Came a startled cry.

With amazingly quick reflexes, the Doctor somehow managed to duck under Donna's swing, albeit just barely. The cricket bat whiffed past his hair by mere centimeters. Donna stood for a moment, open-mouthed, staring at the Doctor in disbelief. She barely noticed when he reached over and gently prised the cricket bat out of her hand.

"I used to have one just like this." The Doctor said, looking at the bat,. "I wonder where it got to?"

"Doctor!" Donna shouted gladly, launching herself into his arms. "Oh, am I glad to see you!"

"Hullo, Donna!" He grinned, returning the hug. Backing away, he looked at her, "Although," the Doctor said, letting her go and hefting the wooden bat with a cheeky glint in his eyes, "if this is your way of showing how glad you are to see me, I'd hate to see what you'd do when you aren't!."

"Sorry," Donna said contritely, "I thought you were a giant wasp or something."

"What giant wasp?" The Doctor asked.

A few minutes later they were back upstairs, standing in the room where Donna had heard the wasp crash through the window. It apparently was a combination office and library. Only now, all the windows were intact, and there was no sign that the creature had ever been there.

"I swear, Doctor, it was there, just like the one with Agatha Christie back in the nineteen-twenties." Donna told him anxiously. "I wasn't imagining it."

"I'm sorry, Donna, it's not your fault," the Doctor said apologetically, placing a kindly hand on her shoulder, "but I'm afraid that's exactly what you were doing."

"You'd better not be suggesting that I'm going 'round the bend!" Donna said, stepping back and giving him an indignant glare, "Cos' I'm telling you, Doctor, it was real, it was there!"

"No, Donna," The Doctor said reassuringly, "I don't think you're mad. I think your lift indeed does indeed go all the way to the top and that you've a full load of bricks, and any other tired old cliché about that sort of thing, of which there's probably hundreds, but which I don't have time to go into right now. Thing is though," The Doctor continued, plunking himself down in an overstuffed armchair near the library fireplace, "some force we cannot see is tinkering with our minds, trying to instill fear and terror. And, apparently it's not confining itself to the mind anymore. I saw what it did to your friend's husband, and I _know _I didn't imagine that."

"That was horrible." Donna agreed sadly. "But why did it start in on me? I only just got here yesterday."

"I don't know why, Donna. Because you were there?" The Doctor sighed. "With this thing, anything could be possible. Which makes all this very interesting, but bit of a challenge, as well. When you were on the phone with me, you mentioned the wasp. It's possible that whatever is here, somehow picked up that image from your mind, and made you believe it was real."

"Hang on, a minute ago you said, '_our_' minds, Doctor." Donna pondered, sitting in a matching chair on the other side of the fireplace."Do you mean that it's been playing these games with you as well?"

"It's been trying to," the Doctor answered with a nod of his head, "but I've been ignoring it.. My mind is my own, and I'd like to keep it that way, ta. But, whatever it is Donna, for it to get inside my head at all, it's got one heck of a powerful mojo."

"But," she asked, "if this is some kind of invisible force, how can you fight something you can't see?"

"The sun with his great eye, sees not so much as I." The Doctor said cryptically, leaning towards her.

"We're facing some unseen evil, bent on killing us, and you're sitting there acting all smug, quoting Keats at me?" Donna raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Yes, yes I am." The Doctor smiled. Then paused, and said, "I didn't know you liked poetry, Donna. "_Daisy's Song_", nice little poem, thankfully written before the invention of the spy cam. Though I did

try to warn him to take that bit about being with the sheep out."

"I always thought that poem was a bit pervy." Donna shrugged. "Guy I dated once, thought the quickest way to get a leg over was to spout love poems at me half the night. Well, that and getting me blootered on champagne."

Without warning, the fireplace—which had no logs in it, suddenly burst into great gouts of flame. Before she could react, the chair on which Donna was sitting suddenly gave a great lurch, tipping her towards the roaring fire.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Donna thankfully had the presence of mind to throw herself to one side before being engulfed by the roaring fire. Unfortunately, not fast enough to keep her from burning herself. She gave a cry of pain, snatching her hurt hand way from hungry orange and yellow flames

The Doctor had already launched himself out of his chair. He grabbed Donna by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet, well away from the fire. Standing with one arm protectively around her, the Doctor glared at the fireplace. As quickly as it began, the fire went out.

"Right." The Doctor said through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing with anger. "Come on."

Taking Donna by her uninjured hand, the Doctor ran for the door of the room. It slammed shut in their faces. They both heard the lock click into place. Giving an uncustomary snarl of anger, the Doctor was not to be deterred. He swung around back into the room, and without breaking stride, picked up a straight-backed side chair by one leg. Without pause, he swung the chair through the window, raining shattered glass on the flower beds outside.

As soon as she gauged his intent, Donna stood back slightly, protecting her face from flying glass with an upthrust arm. Helping Donna avoid the jagged edges of glass still clinging to the window, the Doctor assisted her down to the ground. With her still in tow, he then sprinted back to his TARDIS.

"Don't tell me that was all in my head, Doctor!" Donna told him as they ran towards the back of the garage. She cradled her hurt left hand carefully, trying not to show how much it hurt.

"No, that was very real, Donna." The Doctor said shortly. He knew her hand was hurting her, and it made him incredibly angry and upset. Even though the Doctor was well aware that life in the TARDIS was hardly safe, it still rattled him when he couldn't protect a companion from harm.

Once safely back inside his ship, the first thing the Doctor did was reach under the console deck for the first aid kit. He made Donna sit in the jump seat, then squatting on the floor he opened the kit. Putting on a pair of surgical gloves, he sterilized the skin and carefully applied a soothing ointment to the burn area.

"Sorry, Doctor. It took me by surprise." Donna said to him. She wasn't sure if he was upset with her, the unknown entity, or both.

"No worries, Donna. Not your fault. Actually, you were pretty quick on your feet. I'd make you my goal tender. If I had a football team with any goals to tend, that is." he smiled reassuringly as he worked, "This is ointment made by the forest of Cheam, using a healing recipe given to them by the Sisterhood on Karn. You'll be right as rain in a few ticks, you'll see."

"That works fast, feels better already ." Donna smiled down at him,. "Smells a bit...organic, though." She added, wrinkling her nose, "Couldn't they find any pefumey stuff to mix in with it? I'm going to smell like I've shat myself."

"Why do you think I put on these gloves?" The Doctor said. Tossing away the gloves, he straightened up and walked over to the console. "No worries, Donna. You'll only have to stand downwind of me for the next ten minutes. The injury will be gone, by then. Then you can go into the bathroom and wash it off."

"Terrific." Donna said dryly, walking over to him. "And what'll you be doing in that time? You're not going to leave, are you? Violentia's still missing, we can't go without at least trying to look for her."

"No, not leaving yet." He said, turning to fiddle with some dials on the console. "If you're friend's out there, don't worry. We'll find her Donna, I promise. But right now," The Doctor beamed at her, suddenly as excited as a child on Christmas morning, "I have to cobble together a proper paranormal detection kit."

"Oi!" Donna chided him, "If you're gonna' start singing '_Ghost Busters_' buster, I'm so outta' here." She laughed when the Doctor's face fell.

"What's wrong with my singing? Rose liked my singing. Martha never complained." He grumbled.

"I heard you singing in the shower yesterday morning, spaceman. You didn't half murder '_To_ _Die a Virgin_.' Anyway, thankfully there isn't a TARDIS karaoke night." Donna said, headed off to the nearest TARDIS bathroom, "And, if there ever is, I'm going home to visit granddad."

By late afternoon, they were back inside the house. Golden sunlight streamed into the west-facing windows, but angry black clouds were gathering over the hills in the north, the harbingers of a stormy night. A faint trace of thunder rumbled ominously in the far distance.

When she first saw what the Doctor had cobbled together, Donna almost burst out laughing, but managed a straight face, because she didn't want to hurt his feelings. He seemed quite proud of the device.

The Doctor was weighted down with what appeared to be a combination of an old Bakelite radio, and something like a miniature seismograph, with the bottom half of a kitchen blender stuck on to it. The device was lit up with yellow and green lights, and topped by a fist-sized gray satellite dish. The whole thing was mounted inside a large wooden tray, whose sides were painted blue with faded red letters on the front which read, "_Fresh Roasted Peanuts! Only 5 s._".

There were two long, wide canvas straps which the Doctor had put over his shoulders, so that he could keep his hands free. The former peanut vendor's tray rested against his stomach, projecting out so much that Donna hoped he wouldn't have to escape through any doorways in a hurry.

Turning the device on, the Doctor began walking through the house, room by room, beginning with the library. The device gave off a regular series of tiny bleeps, but otherwise did nothing. The needles of the seismograph stayed motionless, and there was nothing but white noise static coming from the radio.

"Maybe it's away on its tea break." Donna whispered.

"Yeah, maybe. Or," the Doctor replied softly, concentrating on the device, "could be whatever it is, is merely biding its time, waiting for the right moment to catch us unawares."

"Oh, that's just blinking fantastic. Cheers for that happy thought, Doctor." She muttered back at him.

"Anytime, Donna." The Doctor said, oblivious to her sarcasm.

The Doctor and Donna walked up the carpeted staircase to the second floor. They got to the landing at the halfway point, when the bleeping abruptly increased.

"Oooh, I think we've got a hot one, Donna." The Doctor said, clearly thrilled by the prospect.

No sooner had he spoken, when an officer's sword which had been hanging from the wall, suddenly came crashing down, barely missing the Doctor's device! But, it didn't end there. The sword then rose from the carpeted floor, and slowly, point first, advanced on the Doctor. He and Donna backed away, beating a hasty retreat down the stairs. Unfortunately for them, the sword followed.

Quickly removing the wooden tray from around his neck, the Doctor placed it on a nearby sofa. As the sword continued to slowly progress forward, now making slashing motions in the air, he snatched a cavalry lance from off of the wall, and defended himself and his friend with it.

"Keep back Donna!" He yelled to her. That was all the Doctor had time for, as his phantom assailant pressed him hard.

Back and forth across the main hall of the house, the Doctor and the invisible swordsman parried with each other. Somehow the Doctor had been backed against the library door. He used the lance one-handed to push the sword away from his face, while at the same time desperately reaching for the brass door handle behind him.

He stumbled slightly as the door gave way, and into the library they flew, the Doctor ducking and backpedaling, using both hands on the lance to keep his ghostly opponent at bay. His brow began to perspire, and the Doctor was worried that his sweaty hand might lose its iron grip on the lance. The invisible swordsman seemed to be driving him towards the fireplace, so the Doctor angled his way closer to the window he'd broken earlier. The gauzy curtains fluttered in the wind, and the sword flashed with the red gleam of a setting sun, as a long, low mutter of thunder came from across the moors.

The Doctor was valiantly doing his utmost to keep the swordplay well away from Donna's position. She'd followed them into the library, keeping at a safe distance with her back flat against the bookcase on the far wall, watching the Doctor fight for his life. Suddenly, there came an odd scraping noise from behind her, and she felt herself falling backwards. How could that be? That was her last thought, as something sharp and painful came in contact with the back of Donna's head, and her consciousness faded.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The invisible swordsman was unrelentingly backing the Doctor towards the jagged glass, which was the remains of the window he'd broken that afternoon. Viciously on the attack, the slashing sword had him nearly bent over backwards. All of the sudden, the Doctor saw an opening, just a small one.

Taking a deep breath and hoping for the best, the Doctor abruptly reversed his lance, and jammed the end into the handle of the sword. Then, he yanked upwards in an arc, sending the sword flying through the broken window. It fell with a clatter upon the gravel drive, just past the flower beds. A spatter of rain fell on the silvery blade of the weapon, as the heaving Doctor stared at it, wondering if his attacker would have another go at him. But the blade remained motionless, a cold, dead piece of metal.

"I bet old Cyrano would be proud of me." The Doctor panted. "OK, Donna, now we go back to work and find out who or what is behind all of this." The Doctor turned, and saw that the room was empty. "Donna?" He walked out the library door and into the entry hall. She wasn't there either. "Arrgh!" He yelled, throwing back his head and stamping his foot in frustration. Looking about him, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Blimey, where'd she go this time?"

That's what Donna wanted to know. When she came to a couple of minutes later, she couldn't see anything. Groaning lightly, she sat up. For a moment, she experienced a slight sensation of vertigo, then her head seemed to clear. Feeling her arms and legs, Donna decided that nothing was broken, but winced when she felt the back of her head. She had a mild headache, and there was a small bump back there. Donna guessed she probably hit it after she fell backwards, when the library wall she was leaning against suddenly slid open. There was no telling how far she fell. Not very far, it seemed to her, if she hadn't broken any bones in her fall.

"Somebody's gonna' be seriously sorry, when I get out of here." She muttered angrily.

Feeling around her, Donna found that she was in some sort of narrow space. Perhaps between two walls, because there was a wall at her back, and what seemed like another wall touching her stretched out feet. There was no light of any kind. She was might as well have been blind.

"Note to self:" Donna said aloud, "when exploring a haunted house with hidden trap doors, remember to bring a blinking torch with you!"

She tried calling out the Doctor's name several times, but there was no answer. There was no hope for it, she was on her own for now. Donna decided to go to her right, and began to crawl forward upon her hands and knees, because she didn't want to risk falling again.

It was then that Donna realized that traveling with the Doctor could sometimes be pretty damned undignified. As she inched her way along the narrow corridor, she eventually began to hear a series of thumps and muffled grunts. What now?

"Don't tell me. I bet this place is some dirty weekend hotel for ghosts." She whispered.

As Donna drew closer to the noises, she suddenly bumped into something soft and solid. Giving a startled cry, she drew back. But, whatever it was, gave a surprised yelp, as well.

"Violentia?" Donna said, reaching out a hand in front of her. It came in contact with her friend's chest.

"Erm—do you mind, Donna?" Violentia said.

"Oh. Sorry." Donna apologized, letting go of Violentia's breast.

"What are you doing here?" her friend asked.

"Same thing as you, I expect." Donna answered, "Lost in the dark."

"I don't understand any of this." Violentia said in a trembling voice. "What does this...this...thing, want with us? What're we going to do, Donna?"

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," Donna told her, grasping hold of her friend's hand, "we're going to get out of here and locate a mate of mine. He's here in this house, somewhere, right now. If anyone can help us, the Doctor can. And no ghost on earth is going to stop me from finding him."

Back in the manor house's entry hall, the Doctor was stood in the centre of the hallway. He put on his glasses and checked over the device he'd put together in the TARDIS, to make sure it was still working properly . He set it down again and took his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. Holding the sonic up in the air, he pressed the button. The tip shone blue and it gave off a high pitched buzz. Checking the readings, the Doctor raised an eyebrow and stared down at the floor beneath his feet.

Adorning the walls of the hallway where the Doctor was stood, were the portraits of two men and a woman. The men, both middle aged, were dressed in officer's kit. One was wearing a blue dragoons uniform from the Napoleonic era, while the other wore a red uniform from the time of Queen Anne's War. The woman was young and pretty, and dressed as a lady would have done in the Georgian era. While the Doctor was looking down at the floor, someone else was looking down at him. The eyes of the Napoleonic officer in the painting seemed to be alive, watching the Doctor with a fierce intensity.

The Doctor picked up his paranormal device from a nearby side chair, and walked to the back of the house, towards the kitchen. The features of man in the portrait became three-dimensional, as the head leaned out of the picture frame, and watched the Doctor's retreating back. The officer's somber face bore a malicious-looking smile. Then, he settled back, and became a mere painting again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Crawling through a narrow space in total darkness, with a nearly hysterical woman literally at her heels, was not, Donna decided, her idea of a good time. Her kneecaps were killing her, to for starters. And though she cared for her friend very much, Violentia's constant whinging was really starting to get on Donna's nerves.

"Where the hell are we?" Donna whispered to herself, trying not to think of what else might be crawling down around on the floor with her. Her friend's little shrieks, every time her face came in contact with some cobwebs weren't helping Violentia's freak-out festival.

"Don't worry, we'll get out of here soon. Surely there must be a flippin' door around here, somewhere!" Donna said to her, "We'll just have to keep going 'till we find it." Violentia's response was merely to wimper some more.

Donna hushed her friend, when she heard a noise from somewhere ahead of them. A high buzzing sound. Her throat became dry and her pulse sped up, at the thought of being trapped there in the dark with a giant wasp, even if it was imaginary.

Then, she saw a faint pinpoint of blue light, wavering in the air just a few meters down the passage. Of course! If she wasn't on her hands and knees, Donna would have smacked herself in the forehead. Why didn't she realize? It was the Doctor's sonic screwdriver!

"Doctor!" She said joyously, "Am I ever glad to see you! Well, I mean, if I could see you, that is. Haven't you got a torch or some matches or something? I thought you're pockets were bigger on the inside? I mean, all those years of time travel and you haven't learned to carry a torch around with you?"

"Oh, Here we go; nag, nag, nag." The Doctor sighed. "Even if I were blind _and_ blindfolded, I could certainly tell that it's you, Donna. Sometimes I feel like I'm traveling with my mum. Next thing I know, you'll be at me to clean up my room in the TARDIS."

"Oi!" She scolded him, "I'm too young to be anyone's mum, thank you very much."

"Wh—what's going on?" Violentia asked in a trembling voice, "Who is that, Donna?"

A short while later found the three of them seated in the kitchen, after having cleaned off the dust and cobwebs at the kitchen sink. Donna's friend was pale and clearly had frayed nerves. She was still in shock over the loss of her new husband. To give Violentia something else to think about, the Doctor asked if she could make a pot of coffee.

While Violentia was busy making the coffee, the Doctor and Donna seated themselves at the kitchen table. He'd placed his paranormal device on the there, put on his glasses, and began making some intricate adjustments with his screwdriver. Tired of watching him fiddle with his new toy, Donna got up and looked out the window.

A summer dusk lay over the valley and the moors. The clouds were thick and black on the hills. There were intermittent flashes of lightning accompanying the thunder, though still far off. The storm seemed to be going around them for the time being. She noticed a fly was buzzing incessantly, bumping against the glass of the window, trying to get out. Having been trapped so recently herself, Donna felt sorry for it.

"That's a big fly. Must be someone's granddad." The Doctor said, not bothering to look up. The buzz of his sonic screwdriver seemed like a chorus to the fly's buzzing. Donna shook her head, wondering how he knew what she'd been looking at.

"Granddad? I wonder why we say such things, sometimes." she pondered, opening the window a crack and shooing the fly out, "I mean, it's not like insects have family trees, is it?"

"Oh, I dunno', Donna. You never know. There could be a fly version of '_Who Do You Think You Are_?'. One fly could brag that his granddad hatched in Sir Elton John's rubbish bin, and another could say, 'Is that so, well my great-great-great granddad bit Napoleon's horse on the bum at the battle of Waterloo!'"

"My husband is dead, there's some evil thing lurking in my home, and you two are sitting there having some silly discussion about flies?" Violentia said indignantly, as she brought them two mugs of coffee.

"Erm—yeah, I guess I can see your point. We didn't mean to be disrespectful." Donna said contritely.

"And you, doctor whomever you are," Violentia told him, as she sat down next to Donna, "you act like this is some kind of adventure holiday."

"Well actually..." The Doctor started to agree with her, but a kick in the shin from Donna stifled that impulse. Instead, he winced at Donna, and gave her a disgruntled look. To Violentia he uttered a humble "Sorry," and went back to work on the device. Suddenly, the bleeping noise started in again.

"Ah, there we go, you beauty!" The Doctor chortled, pocketing the sonic and his glasses. "_Belisimo_!"

"So tell me, what's that thing supposed to do, exactly?" Donna asked him, taking a sip of coffee.

"I'd thought you'd never ask, Donna." The Doctor told her, smiling proudly. "It's a telegnostic beam kineticscope and infrared sound recorder."

"Honestly, I think he makes some of these names up just to make those of us who are technologically challenged, feel inferior." Donna told her friend.

"Do not." The Doctor protested. Then shrugged. "Well, only some of the time."

"Seriously though, Doctor, what are you going to do with it?" She asked him again.

"If there is paranormal activity here," the Doctor explained, "and not some human or alien influence, this box will not only detect it, it will record anything said on the invisible plane between our reality and the time gap between realities. In other words, we'll be able to hear anything Violentia's impolite and unwelcome lodger has to say."

"What's he mean by "alien," Donna?" Violentia sniffed. "Surely you don't believe any of that extraterrestrial nonsense?"

"Well, actually..." Donna began to say. She was interrupted by a sudden flurry of bleeps from the Doctor's device. He eagerly checked its readings.

"Oh now, we've got a live one!" The Doctor exclaimed with delight. This was followed by a clucking noise and an "Oh dear." Then he looked at up at the two women, and said calmly and seriously, "I think it might be a very good idea if we all ducked under the table."

"Do what?" Donna said, her mind still trying to register the Doctor's change of tone.

"Duck! Now!" The Doctor shouted more urgently.

A split second later, one of the kitchen drawers flew open, and a meat cleaver lifted out, hovered for a heartbeat, and then flew towards the table. Donna and the Doctor ducked. Violentia fainted, slowly sliding out of her chair to the black and white tiled floor. Working quickly, the Doctor and Donna managed to pull her under the tenuous safety of the table.

The cleaver was followed by an entire set of knives coming out of their wooden holder on the counter top, half a dozen razor sharp blades, which also went sailing across the room. Each of them embedding itself in the opposite wall a fraction of a second later, with a light thunk sound.

A groan came from Violentia. She was lying on the floor under the table, with her head propped up against Donna's knees. Donna hoped her friend would come around soon. She didn't fancy their chances, running away from a homicidal ghost carrying Violentia between them.

"What is it with this thing and its obsession with cutlery?" The Doctor complained, as he crouched under the table with Donna.

"Maybe its upset cos' it was told to turn in its apron on _Master Chef_?" Donna said, which got her a grin from the Doctor. "Whatever it is," she said more soberly, "I think that it definitely wants us dead, Doctor."

"No, I don't think so, Donna." he shook his head. Looking up over the edge of the table, the Doctor had to duck under again, as a rolling pin went sailing towards his head. "If it wanted us dead, it could have found a way to kill us quite a while ago."

"But it killed Michael. Why should we be not be up for the chop, as well?" She asked him, flinching involuntarily as a soup maker was launched this time, landing with a crash on the floor near them.

"Did you have to say 'chop' Donna?" The Doctor asked, as the meat cleaver hovered in the air one more time, and went sailing past the Doctor's nose. "Whoa! Don't need a nose job. Like this nose, ta. " He yelled at the entity. "At a guess, I'd say it's possible that this thing may be feeding off of negative emotions in some way." The Doctor told her, "Then again, it may be that all it needs is a good therapist and some Prozac, for all I know."

"It's not exactly giving you a chance to use that device of yours, Doctor." Donna said, eying the box skeptically. The Doctor looked up and stared at her. A slow smile spread across his face and his body seemed suddenly charged with energy.

"Oh yes!" he shouted, hugging her under the table, "Donna, that's brilliant! Why didn't I realize that myself?"

"What'd I do now?" A perplexed Donna asked herself.

"It doesn't want me to use this." The Doctor said, patting his device. "Which means, whatever it is, is intelligent, and maybe, just maybe, I can reason with it, find out what it wants, offer it a chance to go somewhere else, where it can't hurt any more people."

"What are you gonna' do, make it lie down on the sofa and tell you about the nightmares it had as a child?" Donna snorted, then drew back as the fridge opened, and sent a platter of leftover Sunday roast hurling across the room. "This thing is mean and violent, Doctor. It almost seems to enjoy scaring and hurting people. I don't think it's into group hugs and sitting around the campfire singing '_Kum By Yah_.' You yourself told me once, that you can't reason with unreasonable beings."

As if to make Donna's point, there came a hissing sound, and the smell of cooking gas began to fill the room. She and the Doctor watched, as a kitchen drawer slowly slid open, and a box of stick matches rose into the air.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Look Doctor," Donna whispered, "Much as I hate to point out the patently obvious, but if we don't get outta' here, we're gonna' be more cooked than that Sunday roast that just went sailing past our noses."

"Oh, I dunno', Donna. I'm getting rather comfy down here. Mind you, these floors could stand a bit of waxing." The Doctor told her, looking annoyingly calm and relaxed.

As Donna looked on, the box of matches hovered over the counter. A single match from the box virtually danced on air, almost as if to taunt the three people cowering under the table. Violentia had recovered from her faint several minutes previously, but Donna hadn't noticed, having only eyes for the dancing matchstick.

"Doctor!" Donna said more urgently, and coughing lightly from the gas smell, "Providing we survive gas poisoning and manage to escape before burning to death, this house could still be blown off of its foundations."

"Meh." The Doctor shrugged. "I'm sure its insured, Donna. Your friend here can always re-build."

"Excuse me, but how dare you! Don't I get any say in this?" Violentia protested, "That's my house you're talking about! How would you feel if it were home you watched being destroyed?"

The Doctor looked at her, his face suddenly very distant and sober. He looked past Violenta as if he were seeing something else. Envisioning an all too familiar picture in his head, which the Doctor didn't want to see anymore, yet couldn't ever entirely make go away.

"I would feel..." Was all he said, with a melancholy tone to his voice. The Doctor looked to Donna like he was almost going to shed a tear.

Donna and her friend both jumped with surprise, when the Doctor suddenly scrambled out from under the kitchen table. His burgundy trainers squeaked on the black and white tiled floor, as he leapt up and snatched the box of matches out of of the air, shoving them into one of his coat pockets. He turned and shut off the gas. The single match had dropped harmlessly to the floor.

"It's not going to destroy this house." The Doctor told them. He went back to the table and helped Donna to her feet. She in turn helped Violentia up off of the floor.

"Well it certainly looked like it was giving it the old university try." Donna said to him, brushing the dust from her knees and bum.

"Nah, it was bluffing." The Doctor told her, putting on his device again. "I think it needs this house. And, if I'm right, the last thing our mystery entity is going to do, is destroy the one thing that seems to be holding it here."

"And what if you're wrong, sunshine? What then?" Donna challenged him.

"Er—not a clue." The Doctor said honestly. "Isn't that great?" He smiled happily, "I love it when I don't know something. That's part of life's adventure, Donna. Not just whizzing about time and space, running away from volcanoes and Sontarans. It's the prospect of discovery, of leaning something I never knew before. It's what makes life really exciting. Well, " he conceded, "that and running away from volcanoes and Sontarans.

"Actually, we usually we run towards them." Donna commented dryly, watching him adjust the straps of the box holding the device, around his shoulders. The Doctor thought about what she said, and nodded his head in agreement.

"I don't understand any of this!" Violentia said shrilly, cutting into the conversation. Her hands were balled into fists, and her disheveled hair and neurotic sounding voice made her seem like a prime candidate to be sectioned. "I do know, that I want you two out of this house and off my property!"

"But, we can't go now. Whatever this thing is, it killed your husband and it tried to hurt us. We need to put a stop to it, somehow, and the Doctor is probably the only one on the planet who can do that." Donna tried to persuade her, lightly placing her hand on Violentia's arm.

"I'm telling you to leave. Right now! I'm sorry I ever invited you here, Donna. What I ever saw in some chav lamebrain like you, I'll never know!" With surprising force, Violentia pushed Donna away. If the Doctor hadn't of caught her, she would have fallen to the floor.

Before she could say anything in retaliation, the Doctor's hands gently guided a startled and angry Donna behind him. He murmured to her that it would be OK, then stepped between Donna and her friend.

"I have a question for you, Violentia." The Doctor said, his manner like that of a professor addressing a particularly thick student."Forgive me for asking what may seem readily apparent, but, you're not your mum and dad's son, are you?"

"What?" the woman asked, nonplussed by the abrupt and, what seemed to her, very odd question. "Are you daft? No, of course I'm not their son, you idiot! I'm their daughter. What _are_ you on about?"

"So," The Doctor said, ignoring her question, "it goes to stand that if you know you're not a sun, then you should be aware by now that the Earth doesn't revolve around you."

While Violentia was stood there with her mouth hung open, the Doctor completely ignored her, instead turning his back on her, adjusting the controls on his device. Head down, he frowned in concentration as his fingers flitted over the various dials and buttons. Donna, meanwhile, got busy and opened the kitchen's two windows and the outside door, to dissipate the smell of the cooker gas. Feeling emotionally drained, Violentia sat down at the table and stared vacantly out the window.

"Doctor, do you..." Donna had picked up the coffee pot, and was about to ask if he wanted more coffee, when there came a whispering, scratchy voice in the room. It seemed so distant though, that she couldn't tell what it was saying.

"Hold on, Donna, I'm getting something here." The Doctor said, his body suddenly tensing with excitement. He was twisting a knob on the old radio back and forth. The voice came over clearer, and the sound of it raised the hairs on the back of Donna's neck.

"_We are_..._we are_..._we are_..." The male-ish sounding voice said, over and over again. It was perhaps, the same voice, echoed back on itself ten-fold, or perhaps many voices. As she listened, it was difficult for Donna to tell.

"You are what?" The Doctor shouted at the air. "Who are you?"

"_We are many_..._we are countless_..._beyond number_..._beyond your understanding_." Spoke the voice.

Donna stared at the Doctor, as his face grew almost angry. He looked half-mad, shouting up at the ceiling.

"I think you'll find I have a very firm understanding of the workings of the universe, from the beginning of time to the end of everything." The Doctor said in a taunt voice. "I'm asking you again. Who are you?"

"_We are_..._we are_..._we are_..._we are_..." The whispering voice repeated. This time, its tone was haughty, almost as if it was trying to provoke the Doctor.

"In the name of the shadow proclamation and as the sole remaining Lord President of the High Council of Galifrey, I demand you tell me who you are!" The Doctor shouted. He looked tense and nervous to Donna, as if he was almost afraid of hearing the answer.

"_We are the Acheronian vessel. We transport the souls of the damned through eternity. We are...Legion._" The voice told him.

As she stared at the Doctor, Donna was genuinely shocked to see his face go pale, and his eyes take on a look of absolute fear.

"No, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor said in a low voice, shaking his head in denial. "That's...impossible. You're a myth from before the Dark Times, a tale to scare young children. You don't exist."

"_Legion endures_. _Legion cannot die_, f_or we are the dead_. _We will consume you_. _You will become us_." The voice said ominously.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"It's a story that parents on Galifrey used to scare their children with, to make them behave." The Doctor told Donna. They'd moved from the kitchen back into the library, and were seated on a sofa, well away from the fireplace and any sharp objects. The Doctor had set the device on the sofa between them. He told Donna not to worry, that there was an alarm set to go off whenever it sensed a tangible psychic presence.

All of the lights were on now, thanks to the Doctor and his sonic screwdriver. The gathering gloom of night outside the library's tall, stately windows was occasionally lit by flashes of lightning, punctuated by angry grumbles of thunder. The gauzy curtains hanging near the broken window frilled out into the room, with the slightest breeze. A little rain was occasionally blown indoors by the wind, their droplets glistening on the surface of a side table near the window.

Donna had dragged a reluctant and sullen Violentia with along with them. Her friend sat stiffly on a side chair, hands clasped in her lap. She now swung towards total denial, refusing to acknowledge Donna, the Doctor, ghosts, her husband's death or even the storm.

"Go on, what's this story then? It's certainly the night for a scary tale." Donna said, curious about this thing that was haunting Violentia's home. She thought the Doctor still looked discomforted, as if still trying to deny what he'd heard in the kitchen.

"It goes back to the Dark Times, a time when the universe was still new, surrounded by powerful beings capable of doing great good. But, there were also beings of tremendous evil, terrible, unmentionable things." The Doctor explained, crossing his legs and leaning back, making himself more comfortable. "It was a time of chaos and creation. In the Dark Times, there weren't any Time Lords. My ancestors were war-like barbarians, dwelling in mud and thatch huts, going nearly mad from living so close to the open schism of Time. Our planet didn't even have a name, back then. It took ten thousand years for the population to begin to evolve into Time Lords, and tens of thousands more to become civilized and passive, mastering their war-like tendencies. Well, most of them did." The Doctor shrugged. "Sometimes there were Time Lords and Time Ladies who took the path of least resistance and chose violence and aggression; the Master, the Rani, the Killer Queen, the Meddling Monk. Yet, they were rare exceptions. Until the Last Great Time War, I suppose." The Doctor's voice suddenly sounded bittersweet. "When the Daleks came. That's when my race began to devolve."

"But, what about this _Legion_ thing?" Donna persisted, getting the feeling that the Doctor really didn't want to talk about it. Still, she didn't like being left out of the loop.

"According to almost universal legend," The Doctor said, heaving a big sigh. He really didn't want to talk about this, but reckoned that Donna had a right to know. "this..._thing_, is usually described as 'The Stealer of Souls' or 'The Hungry One.' In the Dark Times, my people called it 'The Consuming Shadow.' Later, much, much later, it became known by what apparently is its true name: _'Legion_.' It is said that anyone who has done harm, intended wrong or committed an act of evil can be marked by this entity."

"Marked how, exactly?" Donna asked. She flinched when a particularly sharp flash of lightning was followed by a ear-numbing crack of thunder. The Doctor hadn't seemed to have noticed, but she saw Violentia cringe in her chair.

"It leaves its stamp on your soul—if you believe in souls, or the psyche, if you prefer. That

unique, invisible essence that makes you and I what we are, Donna" He told her, holding up his right hand with his thumb and forefinger pinched together. "The cumulation of one's life experiences. Our cultural and social beliefs, knowledge, ancestry, sensory memories, emotions, personality, the conscience. _Legion _takes your soul or psyche and traps it for all of eternity. It exists for no other purpose than unending torment. What's worse, is that sometimes, if someone has died close by at the same moment, _Legion_ ensnares innocent souls along with the marked one, for no other reason than to make them suffer. It exists only to cause pain and fear. Emotional torture. Feeding off of it like some cosmic leech. And, the mark it puts on you is completely hidden. You will never know it's there until the moment of your death."

"What's this _Legion _look like?" Donna wondered.

"Nobody knows." The Doctor said. "It is said to be made up of the essences of every being it has ever taken, yet has no physical form. On one hand, it traps those it has taken in the places where they died or were buried or were most emotionally attached to. Yet, the marked souls are also what allows _Legion_ to exist, anywhere in time and space. From the Dark Times to the end of the universe, from Earth to the Medusa Cascade and beyond. At least, that's how the legends have it."

"Poppycock!" Violentia suddenly burst out. Both Donna and the Doctor turned to look at her. Donna was getting annoyed, but the Doctor, after a quick glance at his device, appeared concerned. Violentia got up and began pacing back and forth. "You two are sitting here making up stories, when some murderer is running around loose, trying to kill us all. You're both mad. No, wait," She whirled an charged up to the Doctor, "maybe you killed Michael, Doctor. What was it for then?" She shook her fist at him, "Money? Revenge? "I'll have the police on you for this!"

Donna was about to protest, but the Doctor stopped her with a warning look. She'd learned to respect that look of his. It meant that something was wrong, or at the very least, was not quite right. He stood very slowly, carefully skirting around the raging woman. Donna noticed that there was suddenly a big red light flashing on the Doctor's device.

"Listen, you're not yourself." The Doctor said in a low, urgent voice. "But I can help you, Violentia, I promise. I can stop all of this from happening, but you have to trust me."

"Never mind the bloody police!" Violentia shouted, stalking over to a secretary desk on the other side of the room, "I think I'll handle this myself." Without warning, she yanked open a drawer and pulled out a small revolver. "As someone once said, 'In taking revenge, man is equal to his enemy.' Well, I may not be a man," she snarled, "but you killed Michael, and if I kill you before you kill me, I think that will balance the books quite nicely, Doctor."

"No! You can't! He's innocent. He couldn't have killed Michael, he was in Cardiff when that happened." Donna called out to her friend. She watched with horror, as Violentia's arm raised, pointing the gun straight at the Doctor's chest. The Doctor stopped stock still, his arms outstretched, breathing hard, worry filling his eyes. Slowly, Violentia's hand tightened on the trigger.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Staring open-mouthed, almost dumb-struck, Donna didn't want to believe an old friend she'd met on her business course would shoot down her best friend. However, that appeared to be exactly what Violentia had in mind. Donna wasn't about to let that happen. Not to the Doctor, who'd saved her from becoming a human sacrifice in ancient Pompeii, from being shot down by clone soldiers and falling victim to a psychopathic alien roller coaster turned serial killer.

She knew she had to do something. But what?

"Actually, you were only about half right." The Doctor said conversationally, trying to play for time. "What Sir Francis Bacon actually meant was, that while revenge may make you equal, letting go of your hatred and anger and moving on, that makes you so much better. And that's what you need to do, Violentia." He said in a coaxing voice, "Let go. Think! Revenge blinds you, but reason opens the windows to your mind and heart."

"No!" The distraught woman screamed, "I can't let you get away with this, Doctor!" Her finger pressed down on the trigger of the gun.

"Oi! Violentia! Head's up!" Donna shouted, simultaneously lobbing a Chinese vase at her, which had been sitting on a table next to the sofa.

The woman saw the vase coming at her, and instinctively ducked. The gun went off, as loud as the thunder crashing outside. The bullet went wild, putting a neat round hole into a large framed print of a Welsh landscape, which was hanging above the sofa. Its impact shattered the glass, and Donna threw her head aside, narrowly missing getting splinters in her face.

The Doctor had nimbly stepped out of the line of fire. Before Violentia had a chance to recover herself, he snatched the gun from her hand, casually using his best cricket pitch to toss it across the room, and through the shattered window.

"I hope that thing wasn't a rare antique or something. Wouldn't want to be stuck having to pay that nutjob compensation." Donna told the Doctor, looking at the shattered bits of the white and blue coloured vase lying scattered on the floor.

"Are you alright, Donna?" He asked. Then smiled, "By the way, thank you."

"Yeah, cheers. I'm fine." She answered, brushing a stray hair out of her eyes.

"But, I don't think your friend is mad. Look at her." The Doctor said quietly. He walked over to Violentia and put his hands on the woman's shoulders, peering into her eyes. She was standing there, white-faced and sweating, trembling and wide-eyed.

Donna's attitude immediately changed. "What's wrong with her?" she asked, sympathy in her voice

...

Violentia indeed did not look well. Donna thought her friend looked like death warmed over. As she thought this, her friend simply keeled over, and, before the Doctor could quite catch her, she fell to the floor. Donna was appalled as she watched Violentia's face take on a white, waxy appearance. The woman's body went stiff with the first onset of rigor mortis. Her wide-open eyes seemed to hold a puzzled expression

.

"She's been dead for quite some time, I'm afraid." The Doctor said sadly, kneeling beside the woman. He had his sonic out and it gave off its familiar high-pitched buzz as he played it up and down Violentia's prone body. He checked the readings. "More than a whole day, by the looks of it."

"No, but," Donna protested, shaking her head in confusion, "that's impossible, Doctor. She was very much alive when I arrived here earlier today. She certainly seemed alive when you found us in that secret passage, and in the kitchen. How could she possibly have been dead for all that time?"

Instead of answering her, the Doctor's face clouded over like the stormy night sky. He stood abruptly and charged into the middle of the room, head thrown back, eyes brittle with a deep-seated anger.

"Alright!" He shouted into thin air, "Now you've gone too far. No more games. I'm going to stop this, now. It ends tonight!"

As if in answer to the Doctor's challenge, all of the lights went out.

The room was black as pitch, only illuminated by occasional blue-white flashes of lightning. Then, there came the hoarse, grating whispering. Too low for Donna to make out what was being said. At first it sounded like nothing more than the scratching of hundreds of dry leaves on cobblestones. Then, the voice or voices came through a little clearer, and Donna suddenly wished she couldn't hear it.

"_Death comes_..._death comes_..._death comes_..." It said, over and over, like a scratchy old record.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Donna gave a cry and jumped, when, in a flash of lightning, she saw a pale face hovering mere inches in front of her nose. She sighed with relief when she heard the familiar noise of the sonic screwdriver, and it's tiny blue light showed that it was only the Doctor standing there. In the crashing of the storm, which was becoming more ferocious, she didn't hear him come up to her.

"Sorry about that." The Doctor apologized.

Donna punched him in the arm.

"Wot'cha do that for?" He asked in a hurt voice.

"What'dya think?" Donna huffed at him. "That's for scaring me half to death, which, after everything that's happened today, is really saying something"

"Personally speaking, Donna," The Doctor spoke laconically, rubbing his arm, "I think the ghosts should be more scared of you, than you of them."

"Oi!" She said, readying her fist for another punch. Then she smiled. "Too bad we can't just shout them away. Don't suppose it would make them seem so scary, though, if we could."

"Or be as much fun." The Doctor agreed. "Let me see if I can get at least some of the lights working again." So saying, he slipped on his eyeglasses, and ran the sonic over a nearby lamp's cord, trailing the cord to where it was plugged into to an outlet in the wall.

The wild storm sent the curtains in the broken window flying inwards into the room. Heavy rain was tipping down outside. Blown into the library by the high winds, it now began soaking the large oriental carpet underneath the window, and drove occasional icy droplets into the centre of the room. Some of the rain spritzed Donna's arms and the back of her neck. It made her feel chilly, all of the sudden. She rubbed her arms and instinctively turned towards the broken window. Only to see the gauzy curtains suddenly begin to take shape.

"Doctor..." She said tentatively, staring as the curtains slowly began to mesh into a human-like form.

"In a minute, Donna. I think I've got this." The Doctor murmured, hunched over the wall outlet with his sonic, intent on the task at hand.

"I'm guessing that's not exactly Casper the Friendly Ghost." Donna said to herself, as the curtains suddenly had a head, arms and glowing red eyes.

The lightning was coming with more frequency now. With a ripping sound, the pair of curtains detached themselves from the curtain rod. In the white-hot glare of a stroke of lightning, Donna caught a better glimpse of the thing. The arms waved in the air like Medusa's hair of snakes, as the thing slowly approached her. The lamp came on. In its light, Donna gasped as she saw the curtain creature also had a mouth full of sharp teeth. It bore a grin, but it wasn't a smiley face.

"_DOCTOR_!" Donna shouted at the top of her lungs.

"What is it, what's wrong?" The Doctor said, looking up with alarm. Since they became best mates, Donna didn't bellow at him so much anymore, unless there there was a genuine reason for her to.

"Look—oh. It's gone." Donna said, confused. In the very few seconds she'd turned away to warn the Doctor, then look back at the window again, the curtains had returned to normal. Merely lifeless fabric, rustling in the wind, hanging down from the curtain rod as they had done all day.

"What was it? What did you see? Because whatever it was, Donna, I promise I'll believe you." The Doctor asked, looking into her eyes, his voice soft, filled with concern for her.

"This would sound daft to anyone but you, I suppose," She told him, giving a shudder of fear, "but those curtains by the window came alive, Doctor. Head, arms, big nasty teeth. I swear to God."

"It's OK Donna, it can't hurt you." The Doctor sighed sadly, gave her a quick hug of reassurance. He really needed to learn to keep a closer eye on his companions in situations like this. He pulled away, rubbing his chin and looking grim. "No, I think it's just our friend playing mind games again. Psychic warfare. Planting images in your head that seem so real, they can drive some people to their deaths."

Abruptly, the Doctor slapped his forehead. Donna raised an eyebrow.

"One of these days you're going to hurt yourself doing that." She said.

"Oooh, I'm so thick! It's like I'm turning into a Tory!" He shouted at himself. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

"Think of what?" Donna asked him, having no idea what the Doctor was on about this time. Nothing unusual there, she thought.

"Donna," The Doctor said, almost hesitantly, his eyes searching her own, "I need you to trust me, absolutely."

"What are you going to do?" Donna asked, meeting his eyes with a searching gaze of her own. She supposed his statement meant that the Doctor would ask her to do something which would either violate her personal space, or, was hideously dangerous. Knowing the Doctor, she thought, probably both.

"I'm going to block your mind from receiving the core sentient alpha-wave pattern _Legion_ is using to attack you. That's why I haven't been seeing the same things as you. I managed to block it out. But," He apologized, "In order for me to do this, I'll need to get inside your head for a few seconds."

"The effects won't be permanent, will they? I mean, you will remember to un-block my head when this is all over. Yeah, Doctor?" She asked nervously. "And, you'e not like, going to poke around in there, digging up some embarrassing moment in my past for a laugh, are you? Cos' I would so have to kill you if you did that."

The corners of the Doctor's eyes crinkled in in amusement, when Donna said that. He flashed her a fond smile and shook his head.

"I won't go anywhere you don't want me to go, Donna." He reassured her. "And, it'll only be for a few seconds.. Just imagine your memories as a bank vault, and slam and lock the door on anything you don't want me to see. Oh, and yes, I will remember to un-do what I've done. Venusian Boy Scouts honour." The Doctor held up his thumb and two fingers, and put his other hand over his hearts in the VBS pledge. "I'm an honourary lifetime member, you know. Got all the badges and everything. Don't like to go to their jamborees, though. It's co-ed with the Venusian Girl Scouts. That lot give the term 'dirty weekend' a whole new meaning, let me tell you!"

"Getting off-topic is a real problem for you, isn't it?" Donna said archly, shaking her head.

"Trust me, Donna." He said more seriously, "this will keep you safe."

"Well, duh!" Donna retorted, but with a smile. "You dumbo! Do you think I'd be here, if I didn't trust you? So, let's get this over with, before I change my mind and trade you in for my mate Veena."

The Doctor returned her smile, with gratitude. One thing he'd always have with Donna was honesty.

Instructing her to close her eyes, he lightly placed the tips of his fingers on her temples. As gently as possible, he merged with her mind and traced a path to the synapses which controlled that part of her brain which was most vulnerable to psychic attack.

As the Doctor went inside her mind, there came the picture of a younger Donna and a blond haired bloke in a football jersey, huddled in the back of a Ford Escort. Suddenly, he got a vision of a big metal door slamming in his face and a lock slamming home. '_Whoops_. _Sorry, wrong door_.' He thought nervously, never comfortable about invading people's most intimate thoughts. Finding the area of her brain he needed to access, the Doctor put a mental block on it. Then he accidentally read a subconscious thought flitting through her mind, which he took exception to.

"What! Donna, I do _not_ fart when I get nervous!" He blurted out indignantly.

Pulling his fingers away before she could yell at him for reading her private thoughts, the Doctor stepped back a pace and looked at Donna, whose eyes were still closed. For the briefest of moments, there was just a trace of deep sadness in his expression. Then, he turned his back to her.

"You can open your eyes now, Donna. That should take care of the things that aren't there." He told her, reaching into his coat pocket, "Now we can concentrate on the things that are."

Once again the Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocket. Checking the settings, he aimed his sonic towards the windows. The instrument gave off a low warbling noise. Peering at the readings, the Doctor gave a silent nod in agreement.

"You picked an odd time to check on the weather." Donna quipped. "It's positively tipping it down out there, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Is it?" The Doctor asked, seemingly surprised.

Donna wasn't sure if he was being serious or was taking the mickey, so she let it slide. She looked on as he waved the sonic around like a magician's wand. It gave out a series of regular short bleeps whenever he pointed it at the fireplace. Or, to be more precise, a portrait hanging over the fireplace.

It was another portrait of the Napoleonic-era officer, whose painting hung in the entry hall outside the library door. Only in this portrait, he was roughly twenty years older and considerably heavier. In this painting he was dressed in early Victorian period fox hunter's togs. This picture depicted him standing in a pasture beside a saddled chestnut hunter, which was being held by a groom. A black and white spaniel lay sprawled at the ex-officer's feet. The man's dark features seemed cold and haughty to Donna. For someone who appeared as if he'd never had to do anything more stressful than hang about looking posh and giving orders to lackeys, the man looked to her as if he'd been a right old misery guts.

Noticing the Doctor's interest, Donna told him what she knew about the man in the painting.

"Violentia told me that this painting and the one's out in the hall were about the only things that were saved when the old priory burnt down in the eighteen-fifties." She said. "The man who bought the property, bought the paintings from the estate. His only heir was some distant cousin, who apparently didn't want the paintings." She told him.

"I can see why. He does look rather grim, doesn't he?" The Doctor nodded, putting on his glasses and leaning in to gaze at the painting.

"Yeah." Donna agreed. "You'd think with all he had, he'd at least manage a smile. But I suppose some people are never happy, no matter what their circumstances."

"Why make the effort to be happy or content, when it's so much simpler to be mean and miserable?" The Doctor said a trifle sarcastically, standing on his tip-toes, looking hard at the artist's signature painted in the right hand bottom corner.

"According to local lore," Donna explained, turning to gaze out at the still-raging storm. She vaguely heard the Doctor making some odd noises behind her, but reckoned he was just doing some alien thing.

"seems that bloke in the painting found out his wife was flirting with a young, handsome tenant farmer. Old misery guts in the picture there killed his wife and children in a fit of jealous rage, then set fire to the place, before taking his own life. No ever tried to prove it, apparently that sort of thing wasn't supposed to be talked about in that day and age. At least, that's what I was told by Violentia this morning. God," Donna sighed. "That seems like ages ago, now."

Something caught the corner of Donna's eye. She looked in the direction of the sofa, where the Doctor had left his little box with the paranormal device. Its big red light was flashing.

"Doctor, the warning light is going off again. Is it supposed to do tha—?" She started to say, but as she turned, the sight that greeted her was like nothing she'd ever seen before.

The fox hunting gentleman was no longer in the painting. He was there, life sized, standing in front of the fireplace with both hands around the Doctor's neck, strangling him!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

While Donna had been explaining the past history of the man in the painting, the Doctor had the distinct feeling that something wasn't quite right. He stared hard at the picture in its heavy gilt frame, trying to work out what was nagging at him. Then, he realized; something was missing. The horse was still there, the dog, the groom, but the slightly overweight, irascible looking man in the riding togs and top hat had utterly disappeared.

He was turning to tell Donna about it, when the Doctor felt two large, strong hands at his throat. His eyes traveled from the hands, up the arms, and finally to the face of the man in the painting. The man was standing there, large as life, glaring at him with open hostility.

The Doctor couldn't tell Donna anything though, because at that point, the two hands had begun to squeeze and cut off his air supply. The Doctor tried to prise the man's hands loose, they passed part-way through the flesh. The apparition before him was almost as if it had been half-formed of solid living tissue and some sort of ethereal gossamer.

As she turned around to talk to the Doctor, Donna boggled at the scene playing out in front of the fireplace. She realized that the strange noises the Doctor had been making were him being choked to death. Feeling guilty about not noticing that sooner, she dithered only a moment, trying to figure out how to save him. In his struggles, the Doctor's feet made a loud crunch, as he ground shards of the vase thrown at Violentia into the carpet. It gave Donna an idea.

"Meh—in for a penny, in for a pound. It's not like they're a matched pair anymore, are they?." Donna said to herself, as she picked up an identical vase from another table. "Assuming this will even work on a blinking ghost."

Creeping up behind the Doctor's strange assailant, Donna raised the vase over the man's head. The Doctor's eyes followed her, suddenly fearful for his friend. He tried to shake his head, tried to tell her not to try it, but the ghostly man held him in a death-grip. The Doctor could do nothing but look on helplessly, struggling for the air that was no longer entering his lungs.

Raising the vase high over her head, Donna brought it down on the man in the top hat. Unfortunately, the vase didn't do anything but go sluggishly through the man, almost as if it were passing through a vat of treacle. Donna watched in dismay as it crashed harmlessly to the floor. The man however, reacted rather violently to being disturbed from his deadly task. Still grasping the Doctor by the throat with one hand, the other hand swept back towards Donna.

In the second that the ghostly hand made contact with her head, Donna felt as if she'd been hit by a shovel. Her head was flung back and her body went flying across the room. She slumped against the sofa, limp and unmoving. Anger lent its fire to the Doctor's eyes, as his hand dived into his coat pocket. As the apparition reinstated its assault on the Doctor, he thumbed the sonic screwdriver into life.

The room was suddenly filled with a high pitched whine that drowned out the raging storm outside. A heavy vibration ran through the room, making even the walls themselves tremble. Knick-knacks and books began tumbling to the floor.

With a terrible screech, the apparition of the man began to burn, his body slowly dissolving into smoke. The Doctor spared a quick, murderous glance at the painting above the fireplace. But, it was gone, replaced by a framed impressionist-style watercolour, depicting an old market town at sunrise. Running over to where Donna lay, he knelt beside her, holding her head in his lap, feeling a sudden emptiness in the pit of his stomach. What would he do without her?

"Donna?" He whispered hoarsely. Her name hung in a pregnant silence for almost a full minute, before her eyelids fluttered open. The Doctor closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He helped her sit up on the sofa, running the sonic over her to check for injuries.

"Why are you bleeping me?" She complained, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I hate it when you bleep me."

"Just want to make sure that you're alright, if that's OK with you, Donna." The Doctor told her. He looked at the readings. "No sign of concussion this time, just knocked the wind out of you, apparently. That's one way to keep you quiet, I suppose."

"If you're insulting me, that must mean I'm alright then." She smiled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Feels like that bloke gave me a bit of whiplash, though. I feel like the wreck of the _Hesperus_. Too bad you can't sue a ghost for compensation."

"Yeah,. Not on this planet, anyway." The Doctor agreed, jumping up from the sofa. He held out his hand to Donna, and beckoned her. "Come on, Donna. Let's step into my private office, shall we?"

"You're what?" she questioned him. Then followed him to the broken window.

The rain was coming down in sheets, and the night was still punctuated by lightning, periodically illuminating the house and its surrounding moors like a giant flashbulb. The Doctor took off his coat and put it around Donna's shoulders. Then, he stepped through the window and held out his hand to her once more. Donna just stared at him like he'd gone off his head.

"I'm not flippin' goin' out there!" She spluttered. "I'll be soaked from head to foot!"

"You will be eventually, anyway. Might as well take the plunge and get it over with." He said, as the rain began to plaster the Doctor's hair to his scalp, and soak through his blue suit. His burgundy trainers were slowly sinking into the mud of the flower bed. "Come on, what're you afraid of?" He chided her, "It's only water Donna, not corrosive acid. Put my coat over your head if you're worried about messing up your hairdo"

"I am not worried about my hair—oh, what's the use? Alright, I give." Donna sighed, deciding further protest was going to get her nil. "But I swear, you are so going to owe me one after this. Forget Acapulco, I'm thinking two weeks on the French Riviera...with Johnny Depp...or at the very least," she added, flashing him a cheeky grin, "one of those _Chippendale_ dancers."

Climbing though the broken window with the Doctor's assistance, Donna stood with his coat over her head, getting pelted by the rain. Standing close to her ear, the Doctor explained the need for privacy. He was well aware that _Legion _could understand their words, and he didn't want it to be eavesdropping on this particular discussion. In a low voice, he told Donna what he had in mind.

"No." Donna protested, with a vehement shake of her head. "No way. I'm not leaving you to go traipsing about on your own in that house. Anything could happen!"

"Please, Donna." The Doctor pleaded urgently. "I don't like asking you to do this, but, Time Lord genius that I am, I still can't be in two places at once. Well," He conceded, "I can be if I call on one of my past or future selves. But, why bother them? They're probably off having the time of their lives, saving the universe from Yeti, Zygons, whatever the monster du jour is. Seriously though, Donna," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking at her intently, as she peered up at him from under the dripping coat, "I really do need you. I can't do it alone."

"Oh, alright. Tell me what you need me to do." She sighed. "I'm warning you though, if you get yourself killed, I'm so going to murder you." The Doctor laughed and hugged her. Promising he'd do his best not to force her to that extreme, he thanked Donna and watched her run off into the stormy night.

Once back inside the house, the Doctor didn't waste time. He went back through the window into the library and snatched up a torch he'd found in the kitchen. While he'd sonicked the lamp back on in the library, the rest of the home was still in the dark. Once out the library door, he bounded upstairs as fast as his legs could carry him. The Doctor didn't stop until he reached the top floor. After a quick, frantic search, he finally found the door to the box room, which was located under the rafters of the home.

As the Doctor's hand clutched the door handle, however, he found that it came away sticky and wet. Shining the light on his hand, he saw it and the door handle were covered with blood. Shutting his eyes tight, the Doctor concentrated, putting a block on a certain part of his mind. Opening his eyes, he glanced down and saw that his hand and the door handle, were both now dry as a bone.

"Oh, nice try _Legion_ ol' son. I'll give you four marks for effort, but afraid I'll have to tick you off for complete lack of originality. I'd think you'd know by now that your tricks won't work on me." The Doctor said out loud. "Bit thick for a paranormal entity, aren't you?"

Slowly opening the door, the Doctor shone the torch around the room. Dust motes danced like midges in its beam, as he played it around the walls, floors and ceiling. There was nothing in there but a dust-covered dresser with one drawer missing, a few plastic storage crates stacked in one corner, and a forlorn looking artificial potted plant. Cobwebs hung from walls and rafters like Christmas tree icicles. He squinted against a sudden glare, temporarily blinded when a particularly close bolt of lightning hit nearby. The simultaneous crack of thunder shook the building.

The intense white flash of the lightning shone through the dormer window facing the home's drive, filling the small room with it's light for a fraction of a second. And, in that one tiny moment in which the Doctor couldn't see, he was unable to know that he was no longer alone in the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Holding the Doctor's coat over her head for protection from the rain, Donna fought her way through the storm to where the Doctor had left his TARDIS. She was soaking wet from socks to waist Yet, strangely, the Doctor's coat which had protected the upper half of her body, was almost completely dry. Donna was about to open the TARDIS door, when she felt a strange feathery vibration coursing through the nerves of her body.

Something was wrong, but Donna couldn't make her brain tell her what it was. Then, she knew. The same sizzling bolt of lightning which had blinded the Doctor in the box room, had, in that instant, struck the roof of the garage. She knew she had yelped in fright, dropped the key and pressed up against the TARDIS for comfort. Yet, oddly, Donna felt almost as if it was happening to someone else. The resulting clap of thunder had practically shattered her eardrums. All this seemed to occur in long, slow minutes, but in reality, it was only a second.

That was too close for comfort, she thought, emitting a loud, shaky sigh. Funny, but lightning had never scared her before. Even though it hadn't struck her directly, the mild electrical shock from the near-miss left Donna feeling somewhat lightheaded. With panting breath and trembling fingers, she groped in the dark for the lost key.

There came the sharp tang of smoke in the air, mingling with the ozone smell of the lightning. Despite the heavy rain, the garage had caught fire. White smoke billowed up, and small tendrils of flame sought out the rainy night though the eaves under the roof. Donna hoped the TARDIS was fireproof, it being parked less than two meters from the structure's back wall.

Finding the missing key, she breathed a sigh of relief and fled inside the console room. Donna threw the coat over one of the TARDIS' support struts, and went up the ramp to the central console. The Doctor had given her explicit instructions about what he needed her to do.

Donna stood staring at the controls, her hand hovering over an assortment of knobs, dials and switches. Suddenly, she felt panic rising within her, like a stone moving from her stomach to her throat. She stared blankly at the console.

"What was I supposed to do?" Donna said to herself, gazing about at the crazy conglomeration of human junk and alien technology which made up the TARDIS controls. The lightning strike had addled her brain so much, that the details of what the Doctor had told her had completely gone out of her head.

"I don't remember what to do!" Donna shouted desperately, her hands clutching the console in frustration.

As the Doctor's eyes quickly readjusted to the dark after the glare of the flash, he saw that he was not alone in the room. He was, in fact, surrounded. Not by sword wielding ghouls or dish-tossing ghosts, but by the faces of the dead. Alien beings, creatures and humans, all of whom he'd known over the past nine hundred years of his life. Many of the faces were of those whom the Doctor had either directly or indirectly caused to die. There were faces before him which he knew intimately well. Others had been long forgotten, put out of the Doctor's mind, because he had to, if he wished to keep his sanity.

The dead lined the walls of the box room, silent, accusing eyes focused solely on the Doctor. He sucked in his breath and felt a stab of pain in his hearts, when he saw the faces his lost friends, Adric and Astrid Peth. The Time Lord he knew as Castellan Spandrell was there, as was his friend and former companion, the Time Lady Romanavoratnalundar—whom he'd always called Romana.

Enemies too, were also present. Around the walls of the room, the Doctor counted a Sontaran, a Gelth, a Krynoid, an Ice Warrior, Mr. Finch, the jackal-like form of Sutek, a Sea Devil, a Tetrap, a Dalek and at least a dozen more of his former adversaries. The Doctor looked on, horror-struck, as the circle slowly began to advance on him, arms reaching out for him, drawing closer, noiselessly revolving around the room, an ever-shifting whirlpool of the dead.

"I deny this reality. It does not exist." The Doctor stated flatly, squeezing his eyes shut in profound concentration. "I am a Time Lord, you have no power over me."

"_Oh, but we do, Doctor._" Said the subtle voice of _Legion_, that hoarse voice of a thousand whispers, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "_You are not the first Time Lord we have touched. To belong to Legion is a curse many times greater than that of the void, as soon you shall discover for yourself._"

"Oh, I think I've discovered quite a lot, thanks_. _ You just made a very big mistake with me." The Doctor said, opening his eyes and glaring at the approaching images of the dead. For that was what he knew them to be. Images pulled from his mind. And if there was one thing the Doctor strenuously objected to, it was gate-crashers barging in on his private memories.

"You have no power over me. Because I deny your existence." The Doctor's face grew taunt with anger. "Oh yes, I know who you are, now. You're not some all-powerful entity of the Dark Times. You're not an ancient myth come to life. You're nothing but some anonymous personal assistant, toadying up to the boss to get an office with a view and a parking place with your name on it."

There came a willowy cry of frustration. It sounded not unlike a spoiled child, whom was not being given his own way. Suddenly, the dormer window exploded inward. The Doctor had to duck to miss the flying glass. One by one, the dead people surrounding the Doctor threw up their arms—or whatever appendages they had, in distress. Flickering like an old silent film reel, each one winked out of existence, as soundlessly as they had first appeared. But, the Doctor wasn't finished with _Legion_, yet.

"You take people's souls, the essence of who they are, and you trap them at the point of death in a dimensional time lock. Then you feed on the after-image of their lingering emotions, sucking up memories like some cosmic leech, forcing them to re-live parts of their lives, over and over again, dead, but unable to know death." The Doctor spoke bitterly, staring around the empty room, seething with barely controlled anger. "That alone is going to get you on my bad side. But, you don't do it strictly for your own gain, which is an abhorrence in itself. Oh no, it's far worse than that, isn't it? Because you are not in control here, are you, _Legion_? Hmm—? Someone helps you do this, someone who siphons off all of your residual psychic-karyon energy, in order to empower himself to wreak havoc, not just here on earth, but throughout the universe. You're nothing but a slave of the Pantheon Discord."

The Doctor quietly set the torch on the floor and reached into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver.

"Isn't that right...Trickster?" He asked softly, calmly. Yet, there was a cold, hard menace in back of that voice, one that would make even a Dalek turn and run.

A black-cloaked figure materialized out of thin air. He had a pale, vaguely humanoid face half-hidden by a voluminous cowl. A face which had a mocking mouth full of pointed teeth, but without the eyes or a nose one might expect find there. Rather than be alarmed by this new menace, the Doctor merely folded his arms waited. He looked much like a jaded headmaster, expecting to hear a recalcitrant student's lame excuses for misbehaviour.

"Very perceptive of you, Doctor." The figure sneered, "You're so much cleverer than your human friends. I often wonder why you bother with them."

"Actually, you know, sometimes I think it's the other way around. I'm rather amazed that they bother with me." The Doctor admitted, tugging on his ear. "They keep me grounded and remind me of why I'm still here. Fighting self-serving beings like you, who want to do things the easy way, choosing harm and havoc over caring and compassion. Why don't you go back where you belong, Trickster? Leave this planet and its people alone."

"You'd like that." The Trickster said.

"Er—yeah, actually." The Doctor agreed, rocking on his heels and smiling. "I would be delighted. I'll even sign an autograph for you and let you have your picture taken with me." Then he frowned and cast a hard stare at the being before him. "But something tells me you aren't going to make it that easy for me, are you?"

"I have been waiting a hundred thousand millennia to capture a Time Lord." The Trickster told him. "What a victory it would be for my kind, if, by your death, we eradicate your species from the universe, once and for all."

"Seems to me, Trickster, " the Doctor said reminisced, "that I remember someone saying something once...what was it? Oh yes. Some American television sports thing, about the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat. And I have to say, I really think you should start wearing comfy shoes, cos' your feet are about to have one helluva case of bunion burn."

So saying, the Doctor stepped back and stood with his back to the dormer window. Extending his arm, he pointed the sonic screwdriver towards the floor beneath the Trickster's feet. The tip glowed bright blue and the instrument gave off a high-pitched, warbling whine. Seconds ticked by, and nothing happened.

"Ah. Well..." The Doctor swallowed, seeming more than a trifle disconcerted at the lack of effect his sonic was having.

Back in the TARDIS, Donna was still staring at the console, when she saw a yellow light flashing next to a round flat black button with white block letters on it which read, "**PRESS**." She frowned at it for a few seconds, then her face lit up with a big grin.

"Oh yeah!" Donna grinned, "Now I remember!" She put her hand down on the button and pushed.

Outside the TARDIS, a thin, barely discernable glittery yellow beam suddenly shot out from the roof light, going straight up into the roiling clouds and piercing the heart of the storm.

The Doctor blew out his cheeks and shrugged. He looked at the ceiling and hummed a few bars of a _Top of the Pops_ song he'd heard and happened to like. In the back of his mind though, the Doctor fervently hoped that nothing had happened to Donna.

The Trickster said nothing. He merely gave the Doctor an indulgent smile, standing there patiently, with his hands clasped in front of him. Looking at his adversary out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor speculated that if the Trickster had a wrist watch, he probably would have been checking it, by now. Probably tapping his foot impatiently, as well. The Doctor had a pet peeve about people who did that. And people who shouted into their mobiles on trains. And whistled tunelessly while strolling down the supermarket aisle. And went to the ten items or less queue with more than ten items.

With a cold dread which only showed in his eyes, he watched the Trickster. The creature of the Pantheon leisurely raised his hand, ready to consign the Doctor to a fate worse than Hell itself. The Doctor wondered if the storm was interfering with his sonic. What was Donna waiting for?

Then, without warning, there came a blazing flash, as a giant bolt of golden lightning came down from the sky. It shot into the roof of the house, through the box room right where the Trickster had been standing, and all the way down to the ground floor. Before he could utter a sound, the Trickster was instantly vaporized.

After doing as the Doctor instructed, Donna emerged from the TARDIS to see what had happened. She didn't have long to wait. The house was rocked by an enormous explosion. Crying out in alarm, she ducked as the front door flew off its hinges to crash onto the gravel drive, and flames came shooting out of all of the windows.

"Doctor!" Donna shouted, running for the house.

She hoped she would find him alive and well, but how could anything have survived that inferno? The house burned so hot, that she couldn't stand too close to it, and backed away from the flames. The night was suddenly bright with the two fires, the big house and the garage. Still refusing to give up, Donna looked all around the perimeter of the home, frantically searching, calling his name. There was no sign of the Doctor.

Standing under an ancient oak tree alongside the house, using it as protection from the intense heat, Donna could only look on helplessly, unsure of what else she could do.

"My God, Doctor, what have you done?" She said out loud, leaning against a tree, placing her forehead against the rough bark.

"Oh, nothing much." Came a voice from above her. "Just blew up a perfectly good house, and sent _Legion_ and its master back to the world between realities, where they belong. Not to mention having to jump from a window into a tree to escape being blown up. Meh," the Doctor said, "just your typical day for me, really."

"Doctor! You're alright!" Donna called out joyfully, peering up at the face of the Doctor, who was grinning at her from a tree branch above her head.

"Hello, Donna!" He waved. Donna stood back as the Doctor carefully dropped to the floor. He gave her a big hug and stepped back, all smiles. From far off, they could hear fire and ambulance sirens coming up the valley road. "Thank you." he said sincerely, "I knew you'd come though for me."

"What did I do, anyway?" she asked him, as they headed back to the TARDIS. Thankfully, the doors faced away from the burning garage, so there was no danger of getting burned exiting or entering. The Doctor assured her that his ship was indeed fireproof.

"Oh, that little switch I asked you to trigger, reversed the polarity of the helmick regulator, allowing a tiny amount of the TARDIS' residual vortex energy to bleed through, and then the emergency protocols took over, and sent that energy up into the storm. I used the sonic to resonate the molecular structure of the subsoil beneath the house. This in turn, attracted the vortex particles unleashed in the storm, generating a super-charged, timey-wimey powered thunderbolt...which just happened to..." The Doctor paused as it dawned on him that Donna looked slightly guilty. "You forgot my instructions, didn't you?"

"Only for a minute. Or two. Sorry." She admitted.

"No worries." The Doctor shrugged. "You're only human, Donna. Which, I might add, before you slap me, is a compliment. Now," he said, as he unlocked the TARDIS door, "Where to?"

"I do believe I said the words, '_French Rivera_' a while ago, Doctor." Donna nudged him. "And if we end up on the South Pole, I really am gonna' slap you. Twice."

**The End**


End file.
